


Hunger

by Keiko Kirin (sakana17)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-10-30
Updated: 2001-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:24:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/pseuds/Keiko%20Kirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel becomes a vampire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Thevetia for starting it all.

The door was unlocked and swung open at the touch. SG-1 entered.

It was a sprawling, delapidated stone building with no windows. The land around it was dry and dusty, with fierce winds that kicked up without warning. Even the trees, standing solitary and crooked, looked dead.

The team stepped past a broken stairwell. Railings hung precariously from its sides, and individual steps were cracked and bent. Dusty sunlight spilled in from the open door, but the farther they went, the darker it got. Everyone but Teal'c switched on their flashlights. They carried their weapons ready -- Carter and O'Neill aiming their MP-5s, Teal'c his staff weapon, and Daniel his sidearm.

The front rooms were empty. Furnished with a few uncomfortable-looking benches and tables, but no people. No bodies. In the back room -- a long, cavernous space -- they found someone. In the greyish blue stream of the flashlight it was no more than a pile of clothes on the floor. They approached carefully.

It was one of theirs, staring up at the ceiling with blind, dead eyes. No need to ask what caused her death: the gaping wound across her neck told its own story. Oddly, there was little blood.

Colonel O'Neill knelt down and reached under her shirt, grabbed her dog tags, and tore one free. He closed her open eyes and stood up, dropping the tag into a safe pocket.

He pointed upstairs with two fingers and nodded. SG-1 cautiously crept back to the foyer and climbed the broken stairs slowly, making as little sound as possible. At the top of the stairs was a hallway that ran from one end of the house to the other. A closed door at either end, and two in the middle.

Jack touched Sam's shoulder and pointed to one door at the very end. She nodded and slowly headed toward it. He touched Teal'c's arm and pointed to the other end. Teal'c kept his staff weapon raised in front of him and went to it. Two doors left, in front of them. Jack touched Daniel's shoulder and nodded at the left one. Daniel went to stand next to it, gun and flashlight aimed. Jack stood in front of the right one. He looked around the hallway at his team and nodded again.

Daniel carefully pushed the door open. His light swept across the room. Two chairs. A bench. A low stone altar with a curtain around it. _How gothic,_ he thought grimly. He silently stepped across the stone floor and eased the curtain back with the barrel of his gun. He shined the flashlight inside.

One of them. Asleep. If, indeed, they slept like humans or just simply shut down. Funny, it didn't look like what he'd expected. It didn't look human, but it also didn't look like some movie monster. It was small, and skinny, and very dark, and very bony. He could see the shape of its skull under its skin. Human-like in the face, but the brain casing was too flat on top and bulged on the sides. It wore a thin robe, down to its feet. Feet and hands were curved, and clawed. Nasty looking claws. But the most disturbing feature it had, shape visible under its robe, was its stomach: large, rounded, distended. Like a grotesquely pregnant woman.

It didn't wake up, and after what they had found downstairs, Daniel didn't want it to wake up. He let the curtain fall closed and took a few steps back. He waited for a moment, pulse hammering, then turned around and scanned the room again with his flashlight.

There was writing over the doorway. Symbols. He didn't really want to know what this culture had to say about itself, but he couldn't control his curiosity. He went closer to it, light aimed at the writing. Three symbols -- ideographs, perhaps -- written in black, very carefully. Even from here, he could see the control in the brushstrokes. Like Oriental calligraphy...

All he felt was _sharp_. Something sharp in the back of his neck. Something sharp on his shoulders. It was like... a very large cat on his back, digging its claws in. He wanted to bat it off, but when he tried to move his arm, he couldn't.

That shouldn't be. He stared at his arm, raised, holding the flashlight. Perfectly still. Unmoving. Like a statue. Like someone else's arm.

The sharpness hurt. He tried to shake it off. He couldn't move his body. His legs, his hips, his back. Now he was scared. Really, absolutely scared.

The fear triggered something in his mind, which had been feeling watery and uncertain. Claws. Something sharp with claws. It had claws. The sharpness was It.

He tried to scream. His mouth wouldn't open, his tongue wouldn't move. There was nothing to do. Oh, God. He was going to die like this, and he couldn't move. He couldn't fight back. He couldn't even run.

_Fight it,_ he told himself. _Fight it. It's doing this to you. It's paralyzing you. It's feeding off your fear. Before it feeds for real._

He couldn't close his eyes -- eyelids wouldn't shut. He stared ahead. His arm. The light. The symbols on the doorway. Concentrating on anything else but the sharpness. Anything but It. The symbols. What did they mean? The middle one looked like the Chinese ideograph for water, only upside down, with something else. Chinese letters. In a neat row. What did they mean?

He dropped his sidearm.

The sharpness was worse. Was killing him.

Then: a shout, his name. A blast. The sharpness gone. Blasting. Bullets. Fire.

His brain was water again. He hit the floor.

\-----

There was no one left to rescue, Sam thought grimly, staring at the bodies in front of her. Why one had been left downstairs, she didn't know. It didn't matter now.

Sam crouched down and recovered their dog tags. She reached over to close the eyelids of the one man left with eyes. That's when she heard the shooting start.

She ran from the room, MP-5 up and ready. Saw Teal'c emerge from the far room opposite hers. The blasts were coming from the room Daniel had gone into. Before she reached the doorway, the gunfire stopped.

Teal'c stood across the doorway from her. Back to the wall, Sam peered around the doorjamb. Daniel's flashlight was on the floor, and in its beam of light, there was Daniel's body. Her first thought was, _Please, let him have eyes. I can't bear it._

Something moved by Daniel's feet. Sam nodded at Teal'c. She held her flashlight up and aimed it into the room and Teal'c rushed inside, staff weapon raised. His back blocked her view.

"Captain Carter!" he called.

Sam took two steps inside and stopped. At Daniel's feet was Colonel O'Neill, hunched over... something. A creature. The colonel was stabbing it, cutting it.

Teal'c stepped around the creature and crouched down, facing Colonel O'Neill. "I believe it is dead," he said.

The colonel stopped and rocked back on his heels. "We have to be sure," he said.

Teal'c reached down. Sam didn't see what he did. He looked up. "Its head is severed from its body. I believe it is dead," he repeated solemnly.

Sam aimed her light at Daniel. She crouched next to him and felt for a pulse.

"He's alive," she whispered, exhaling in relief. His eyes were closed. She raised his eyelids and shined the flashlight at them. "But unresponsive."

She glanced back at Colonel O'Neill. He wiped his knife on the creature's clothing, sheathed it, picked up his MP-5, and crept over to Daniel's body. He patted Daniel's cheek a few times. He looked over at her.

"It was on his back. I think it was... eating," he said. "Teal'c, give me a hand here. We better check his back."

Teal'c knelt beside the colonel and they carefully lifted Daniel, rolling him onto his side so Sam could check his back for wounds.

"I see marks," she said. "But very little blood." She untucked his shirt and lifted it and his jacket up as far as she could, shining the flashlight over his skin. "Deep cuts on his shoulder. Both shoulders." She let go of his jacket and brought the light up. Combing through his hair with her fingers, she checked his head for cuts or other injuries. "Looks fine here." She slid her hand to his jaw and swept his hair back from his neck. She looked up at the colonel and Teal'c.

"Puncture marks," she said. "No blood."

They eased Daniel onto his back. Colonel O'Neill brushed Daniel's hair from his face.

"Okay," he said, staring down at Daniel. "Report. Is there anything left to this mission?"

"I found nothing," Teal'c said.

Sam felt in her pocket and pulled out the three dog tags she'd recovered from the corpses of SG-5. She handed them to the colonel, who put them with the one he'd taken earlier.

"Then let's get out of here, and get Daniel home."

Teal'c carried Daniel's body across his shoulders. Colonel O'Neill carried Teal'c's staff weapon, and Sam retrieved Daniel's sidearm and backpack. After the cold darkness of the house, the day outside was blindingly bright, hot, and dusty. As they began the long walk back to the stargate, O'Neill radioed Colonel Makepeace to check with SG-3 and tell them the search and rescue was over.

"Two aliens killed," Makepeace's voice reported back.

"Be sure you cut their heads off," Jack said. "Out."

They couldn't walk as fast as before, with Teal'c carrying Daniel's weight, and Carter carrying the extra pack. The gate was too far for Jack's liking, and there was that dried out creek bed they had to cross. Every single minute they spent here, light years away from the infirmary, was killing Daniel.

The building was out of sight when the wind kicked up. A first just a quick, hard breeze, then it started in earnest. A dust and sand storm, rushing at them. Pounding at them. Blowing so hard, almost blowing Jack off his feet.

"Get down!" he shouted, and couldn't hear his voice over the wailing of the storm. His sunglasses protected his eyes, but he could barely see through the curtain of sand and dust and dirt. He staggered forward, using the staff weapon as a walking stick to keep from falling over. A dark shape came right at his face. One of the creatures? A tree? It moved around and he walked into it. It was Teal'c, still holding Daniel.

Jack grabbed Teal'c's arm, and Teal'c nodded an acknowledgment. The wind died down a little, and they saw Carter, flat on the ground a few yards away. Fighting the wind, they walked to her and sank to their knees. Teal'c laid Daniel out on his stomach and covered his face with Daniel's hat to protect it from the sand. Jack shook Carter's shoulder. She had her head buried under her arms, face down. She moved, not lifting her head, to let him know she was all right. Jack and Teal'c covered their faces with their jackets. They all hunched together around Daniel to wait the storm out.

Jack wasn't sure how long it lasted. When it stopped, the sky was an angry red, and gusts of wind still raced at them every so often. He checked on Carter, and she pulled herself to her knees, nodded and yelled, "I'm okay, sir." Probably yelling over her own deafness. Jack's ears were stopped up, too.

He crept over to Teal'c, who was already sitting up. His face was scratched and streaked by sand and dirt. "I am fine, O'Neill," he said.

Jack picked up the staff weapon, and Teal'c began to pick Daniel up. Daniel writhed and pulled away from him.

"Daniel?" Jack said, setting down the staff weapon and touching Daniel's shoulder gently. Daniel sat up, rubbing his face. He ran his hands through his hair.

"Jack? What...?" He looked around, blinking and squinting.

"You were attacked," Jack said. "Are you okay? Can you stand up?"

Daniel shakily rose to his feet. Carter helped him stand steady. Daniel looked around blankly and slapped his hat against his thigh. He put it on and gave a Jack a puzzled look. "Where are my glasses?"

Shell shock. Jack didn't blame him. He patted Daniel's arm. "I don't know. Carter?"

"I forgot to look for them, sir," Carter answered, glancing curiously at Daniel.

Teal'c picked up his staff weapon and stood at Daniel's side. "Daniel Jackson. Can you walk?"

Daniel took a couple of wobbly steps. Another gust of dusty wind swept around them. Daniel stopped and nodded. "I think so. How far are we from the stargate?"

"Far," said Jack, watching Daniel. "You're sure you feel okay?"

Daniel took a few more steps. "Yes, I think so."

They started walking again. Daniel's pace was slow. He shouldered his backpack, but seemed to labor under it, keeping his head down. His steps became slower, and slower. Teal'c walked behind him, in case he stumbled.

The sky bled from red to purple, filling with clouds. The wind was picking up ominously. Jack radioed for SG-3, but all he got in reply was static.

"It's getting dark," he said. "We'll have to camp."

"But, sir. What about Daniel?"

"I know, Captain," he snapped. "But when it gets dark, those... those _things_ will be out and hunting near the stargate again. I can't raise SG-3, which means they're either dead already, or there's a sandstorm somewhere blocking our signal. Either way, that leaves us vulnerable."

It was risky, and maybe they should just keep moving ahead, but Jack didn't like how out-of-it Daniel was. SG-3 had already had a run-in with the creatures at night, by the gate, and Makepeace had lost one man. And the friends of the creature Jack had killed back there were still around, alive and hungry.

They found a hunched, twisted tree and set up a rough camp there. No fire. The sky was getting darker, and the air colder. When the wind blew, it hissed and battered at them.

Hunger. That was all Daniel felt now. Hunger. His body ached with it. He could barely move because of it. He was glad when Jack decided to camp down for the night. He needed to rest, and eat.

He watched Teal'c walk around the camp, silhouetted by the night, carrying his staff weapon. Keeping watch. And it was odd, because Daniel could see him so clearly, even though it was getting darker, and he'd lost his glasses.

He dug around in his backpack and pulled out an MRE. Never high on the list of haute cuisine, but he was so hungry, he couldn't wait to get some food -- anything. He opened the package. The smell assaulted him. Dead, rotting, revolting. He set it aside quickly.

"Do these things go bad?" he asked.

Sam looked up from hers. "Why?"

"Because mine has," he said, pushing it over to her. "Smell it."

Sam picked up the package and sniffed it. "I don't smell anything bad. It smells the same as mine." She gathered a tiny bit of it with her fork and took a taste. "Tastes the same as mine, too." She handed it back to him. "It's okay, Daniel."

Daniel looked down into the package, wincing from the stench. How could she not smell that? He glanced over at Jack. "You can't smell this?"

Jack gave him an odd, measured look. "No."

Daniel picked up his fork. The smell was sickening, but he was so hungry. He had to eat. He steeled himself against the odor and took a few, quick bites. Oh, God. It tasted worse than it smelled. Sharp and decaying. It tasted dead.

He slid away from the others and got sick, heaving up the vile, rotting garbage until there was nothing left. He wiped his mouth and sat still for a few moments, holding his head in his hands. He felt dizzy. Tired. And hungry.

Every second that passed, he got hungrier. It clamored inside him, distracting him from everything else. Except that sound. Sound? He took a few deep breaths and listened for a moment. Then Jack was there, touching his arm and asking, "You okay?"

Daniel opened his eyes. "They're coming," he said.

Jack stared at him. "Who is?"

"The creatures. I can hear them."

Jack looked back at the others. Teal'c raised one eyebrow and gave Daniel a long look. Sam stared at Jack.

"What do you hear?" Sam asked.

Daniel blinked at them. "You don't hear it? It's getting louder all the time. There's a few of them. Three, maybe four. They're... laughing, I think."

"Laughing?" Jack repeated, raising his eyebrows. He took off one of his fingerless gloves and touched the back of his hand to Daniel's forehead. "I think you need to sleep."

Jack's hand was so warm. So alive. He could feel its life. Skin growing and changing and dying in every millisecond. The movement of muscles over bones and cartilage. Nerve ends stretching and humming. Veins and arteries networked around everything, full of blood. Alive and warm and flowing.

He was so hungry.

"Oh, my God," he whispered, staring at Jack. He pushed Jack's hand from his forehead and scooted away. Jack stared at him in alarm.

"Daniel? What's wrong?" Jack took a crouching step closer.

"Stay back," Daniel said. Fear and revulsion roiled inside him, made his heart pound with terror, his lungs strain for breath. "Stay away," he panted. He kicked at the ground as Sam and Jack drew closer, trying to keep them back. "Please."

Something stopped him. He knew without looking up, it was Teal'c. His new sense told him that. This new, sick, unwanted sense that only grew stronger as Sam and Jack came up to him and knelt beside him. The three of them, all alive. Warm. Full of blood. The smell of them so tantalizing, so sweet. It made him ache.

"Please," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. "Kill me."

Jack grabbed his jaw. The shock of the touch -- all that life and warmth so close, so near his mouth -- opened his eyes. Daniel locked his teeth together.

"We're not going to kill you, and we're not leaving you, and we're not letting you run off to get killed," said Jack, staring into his eyes. "Now tell me what the hell is going on." He let go of Daniel's jaw.

He knew. Daniel could tell. Jack knew, but he didn't want to know. He was praying he was wrong, hoping Daniel would tell him something other than the truth. _Oh, Jack. I wish I could._

"I'm one of them," Daniel said quietly.

In Jack's eyes, he saw it all: grim confirmation, fury, despair. _I'm sorry. Kill me._

Jack clenched his jaw. "You're not one of them," he said.

Daniel tried to twist away, but Teal'c held his arms. "I am," Daniel said. "I can feel it now. I can tell. It's why I couldn't eat the food, why I'm so hungry now. Why I can see you all clearly. Why I can hear them."

Jack sat back on his heels and breathed out heavily. Sam reached out as if to touch Daniel's hand, but stopped short and let her hand drop.

"Maybe that creature did something to you," she said, "but you'll never be one of them. We'll get you home, we'll do something..."

"Daniel," Jack cut in. Not looking at him now. Looking down, away, anywhere but at Daniel. "Are the creatures still coming our way? Are they after us?"

Daniel took a breath and concentrated. Thankful for this. Before he died, he could do this, at least. Help his friends get home. "No," he said. "They moved off. I can barely hear them now."

"Okay," Jack said, as if ticking that item off some mental list. "Now. You're hungry, you said. You've been weak since you woke up. You feel weaker now?"

Daniel glared at him. _Don't do this, Jack. Don't._ "Yes," he gritted out.

"Right. Well. We need you strong enough to make it to the gate."

"Sir--"

"Yes, Captain?"

Sam lowered her voice, also careful not to look at Daniel. "You're not suggesting...?"

Jack looked at him then, briefly. "I'm not leaving a member of this team behind to die, Carter. I don't like this, none of us likes this, but I don't see any other choice. We can't help him here, and he's not going to get any stronger unless he... unless he eats."

Teal'c, who hadn't said a word, who had just kept holding Daniel so he couldn't crawl away, spoke. "I offer my blood to Daniel Jackson."

"Teal'c," Daniel said, trying vainly to pull away from him. "No."

"I believe I may be able to offer more blood than either O'Neill or Captain Carter. My symbiote will protect me."

"I won't do it," Daniel said, even as his body yearned for it. Thirsted for it. Through his clothes, he felt Teal'c's life from the hands gripping his arms. Strong, energetic life.

"None of us has a choice, Daniel," Jack said softly. He nodded at Teal'c.

Teal'c let him go. Daniel could crawl away now. Except he couldn't. He could barely move. And the smell of them all around him. The promise of food... It was too much. Maybe Sam was right. All they needed was to get him home. Then they could find a cure. Something. Anything. Just this once, he'd do it. Just this once.

"Okay," he whispered. He managed to sit up. He looked up and saw Sam and Jack crouching in front of him. Sam looked stricken. Jack's look was closed and severe.

"Guys," Daniel said. "If I'm going to do this, please. Don't stay here. Don't watch. I don't want you to--"

"He's right," Jack said, cutting him off. "Come on, Carter." He touched Sam's shoulder and they stood up, moving a few yards away.

Teal'c knelt beside him, holding his knife. Daniel looked into his face: carefully neutral, not judging him. Wanting to help him, no matter what.

"Where should I cut?" Teal'c asked.

Where? Daniel had no idea. He was dizzy again, this time from anticipation. His body craved so much, was so eager to taste... He wiped a hand across his forehead and pushed his hair back.

"I'm not sure," he said. "Your arm? Where Doctor Fraiser usually draws blood?"

Teal'c nodded once. "That is sensible." He held the knife blade to the crook of his arm and made a quick, small cut. He didn't even wince as he did it. He held his arm out straight, offering it.

Daniel hesitated, even though his body was tingling, sensing the blood, wanting it. Needing it. How could he do this?

"Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said very softly. Giving him permission.

Daniel held Teal'c's wrist and leaned down. Touched his lips to warm, living skin, and tasted blood. He licked up the dead but still sweet blood that had trickled from the wound, then lapped at the cut itself, to capture it fresh. When the flow began to stop, he sucked hard to bring it back. Filled his mouth with it. So sweet, so alive, so nourishing. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.

He drank, and drank, and with each mouthful, he felt better. His head cleared, and he could feel the strength return to his limbs. The deep ache inside him began to fade. He felt alive again. Really alive. As alive as Teal'c's blood was, pouring into his mouth.

Teal'c. Daniel froze, licked a last trickle from the cut, and sat up. He searched Teal'c's face for signs of pain. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Teal'c nodded slowly. "I am fine, Daniel Jackson."

Daniel let go of his arm. He took a deep breath and wiped his face. "This is awful," he said.

"The blood did not work?" Teal'c's voice was full of worry.

"No," Daniel said, looking up. "It worked. I feel great. That's why it's awful."

Teal'c gave him a long, calm look. It wasn't pity, it was understanding.

With Daniel strong again, they resumed the walk to the gate, even though it was still dark. Daniel could hear the creatures, and told them when to hide and when it was safe. He could also see in the dark. Not perfectly, but better than normal.

Daniel's strength ebbed more quickly than expected. Carter theorized that because he was a newly made vampire (not her word, no one said it, they were all doing their best not to say it), Daniel might need more blood initially to feed his system and sustain his strength. They stopped when he felt too weak to carry his pack, and he fed from Teal'c again.

Dawn was approaching, and a weak purple light rose over the horizon. The gusts of wind from the night had slacked off. They reached the dried out creek bed when Daniel grew weak again. Daniel didn't say anything, but he was lagging behind. When Jack turned back to check on him, he saw Daniel dragging his backpack along. They stopped and waited for him.

"No," Daniel said as he reached them. "We're almost there. I can make it."

"We're not almost there," Jack said.

Daniel dropped his protests and sat down on the bank. He held his head in his hands.

Jack looked at Teal'c. "Teal'c? Do you think you can do it again?"

Teal'c glanced at Daniel. "If I do, I would require kel-no-reem immediately so my symbiote can restore me to health."

"I'll do it, sir." Carter sounded resigned, matter-of-fact. She got out her knife.

Daniel shook his head without lifting it from his hands. "No," he said, muffled.

Sam rolled up one sleeve and sat down beside him. "Come on, Daniel. Just take enough to get back to the gate. Please."

She made a small cut on her arm and held it out for him. Jack looked away and watched dawn spreading through the sky. Less than a minute later, he heard Daniel coughing and choking. He turned around to see Carter with her arm bent upward, and Daniel hunched over the ground, spitting blood out.

"Daniel?" Sam said.

Daniel wiped his mouth. "It burns. There's something in it..." he said, grimacing. "It made my mouth and throat burn, made them raw."

Sam was silent for a moment, then exchanged a look with Jack and Teal'c. "The naquadah in my blood?" she said. "From Jolinar. That's my best guess."

Jack rolled up a sleeve. "Then it'll have to be me."

Daniel turned away and tried crawling down the bank. He made it about a yard before he collapsed. Jack knelt beside him and helped him sit up.

"Look at you," he said. "You can barely move."

Daniel shook his head. "I can't keep doing this." He looked up at Jack.

Jack watched him, silent. He took out his knife and cut quickly across his arm, just below the bend. The cut stung. Blood seeped out.

Daniel's eyes were immediately drawn to the blood. Jack saw a tremble go through him. He took a deep breath and held his arm up, offering.

"Go ahead," he said.

Daniel wanted to resist, Jack could see that. But the instinct for survival was too strong. Or maybe it was just the hunger. Mindless hunger that goes beyond any thought of living. Jack had been there himself. Daniel held Jack's wrist and elbow and bent his head to drink.

Daniel's lips were dry, warm, soft, as they spread over his skin. But what surprised Jack (although, if he'd thought it about it carefully, it shouldn't have) was the touch of Daniel's tongue. Wet and hot and licking at the cut, lapping up his blood. And when the blood began to clot, Daniel sucked hard to renew the flow of it.

It was... No. Jack shut down that line of thinking. It was nothing more than what it was: getting Daniel through this. He didn't know why he watched, but he couldn't look away from Daniel's head bent over his arm, hair falling forward to hide his face and what he was doing. He watched, and felt Daniel's lips and tongue drinking from him. Sucking from him. Could imagine his blood flowing through his veins and into Daniel's mouth, pouring down Daniel's throat. The air around them became thick and hot and moist, and the sky was dark again. A black-purple color, falling like a curtain around them. _Drink,_ he thought. _Drink all you want. Take it all._

"Colonel?"

He opened his eyes -- when had he closed them? -- and the world was blindingly bright. Carter's face peered at him, eyes wide with concern. Startlingly blue. A strong hand gripped his shoulder and lifted him up until he sat on the ground. He looked over at Teal'c, caught his breath, and patted Teal'c's arm.

"It's okay. I'm okay."

Teal'c slowly let him go, but kept his hand resting on Jack's back in case Jack needed the support. Jack took off his cap and wiped a clammy hand across his forehead. He replaced his cap and looked up, and that's when he saw Daniel. Standing a few feet away, tall and the picture of health. Wearing his hat and looking away.

"It's okay," Jack said again, although he let Carter help him to his feet. "Let's get out of here."

They walked on across the dry plain, now painted a soft orange as the daylight strengthened. Daniel had taken out his bandana and thrown it over his head, under his hat. Maybe he could sense sandstorms now, too.

After a while, Daniel said, "SG-3 are up ahead. I think they're waiting for us by the gate."

Jack looked around. There was a stand of twisted trees next to a small rise off to the left. Beyond it he could see the top of the gate. They were almost there. Even so, when he looked closely through the trees, he couldn't see anyone.

He glanced back over his shoulder at Daniel. "How can you tell?"

Daniel didn't say anything, just shook his head.

When they reached the gate, Daniel was slowing down again. Makepeace looked at him warily while Jack filled them in. Carter dialed home and tapped on her GDO, and they stepped through the gate and back home.

\-----

Doctor Janet Fraiser stood at the foot of the infirmary bed, hands in lab coat pockets, and watched her patient sleep. The room was dim and quiet around them. Her other patients -- a broken leg and a severe allergic reaction to alien flora -- were sleeping soundly at the far end of the room.

The scuff of footsteps behind her made her turn around. Colonel O'Neill and Sam stood in the doorway. Sam walked up to the bed. Colonel O'Neill hung back and leaned against the wall next to the door.

"How is he?" Sam asked, resting her hand over Daniel's wrist.

Janet glanced down at the floor and took a deep breath. "The, uh, the experiment didn't work. He was able to drink the, um, animal blood, but his body rejected it." She paused and looked up, watching Daniel's pale, sleeping face. Relaxed in sleep, but not untroubled. "I've sent more tissue samples--"

"He needs human blood," said O'Neill behind her, interrupting. Janet turned around to face him. O'Neill's gaze shifted from the bed to her. "Fresh, living human blood."

"Colonel, we can't be sure... There are still some things we haven't tried..."

O'Neill shook his head and pushed away from the wall, raising his hands as if cautioning her to stand back. "No. We all know it, okay?" He looked from Janet to Sam and back again. "Doc. When his body rejected this last batch, what did you do?"

Janet pursed her lips and looked away.

"What did you do?" he repeated.

"Teal'c was waiting outside, just in case..." she admitted.

"See?" He paced to the door and back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Sam gave Janet a grave, worried look. "Where's Teal'c now?"

Janet bit her lip. "Kel-no-reem."

"This is crazy," O'Neill spat out. "We can't go on like this."

Sam and Janet both turned to him. "Sir?" said Sam.

He stared straight ahead, at Daniel. "I've talked with General Hammond. He wants SG-1 back in the field."

"But, sir--"

"Without Daniel," he finished.

Janet sighed heavily. "Let me try a few more tests. I've contacted blood disease experts all around the area, and sent tissue samples out. There may still be a way to beat this."

She hoped so, deep in her heart, but her doctor's mind told her differently. Colonel O'Neill was right. They knew what Daniel needed. Trial after trial had proven that.

\-----

SG-1 resumed field missions. In Jackson's place was Dwyer. Not even "Doctor" Dwyer -- the kid only had a Master's degree in linguistics. But he was brilliant, and eager, and he embraced military routine. Doctor Jackson had helped recruit him months ago after reading Dwyer's Master's thesis, and now he gave his replacement tacit approval, even though the decision had been made and would be carried out with or without Jackson's agreement.

So, no. The problem wasn't Dwyer or Jackson. The problem wasn't even SG-1. Captain Carter and Teal'c had accepted Dwyer as well as they could. They were patient with him in briefings. Teal'c had been seen helping him with weights in the gym. Carter had helped him on the firing range, teaching him the finer points in handling an MP-5.

The problem was, as Hammond had suspected it would be, Colonel O'Neill.

Hammond hadn't made his decision lightly. SG-1 were his best and brightest. But the situation with Jackson wasn't getting any better. In some ways, it was getting worse, the more they learned how to compensate for it. It was distasteful to him. It was grotesque and inhuman. But they had to fight for one of their own, no matter what. Even so, Hammond had been clear on one thing: as long as Doctor Jackson suffered from this affliction (for want of a better word), he would not be placed in the field. The risk to the fellow members of his team was too great.

He was sure Colonel O'Neill recognized this, but O'Neill had personal loyalties that overrode military logic. SG-1 wasn't just going out there to find alien technology and save Earth, they were looking for Jackson's wife and her brother. They functioned as a team; they worked as friends. It was dangerous, and Hammond wondered from time to time if he should have split them up long ago to avoid this very same situation, having a team reluctant to accept a newcomer. In Colonel O'Neill's case, not just reluctant. Actively against it.

Well, maybe that would change, Hammond hoped. The new SG-1 were out on their first mission now. Dwyer's pre-mission briefings had been thorough and succint. Straight to the point, with strategically important facts highlighted, in a manner Hammond wished Jackson would try. Hammond liked the look of Dwyer, thought he could do well if given half a chance. If O'Neill gave him that half a chance.

A knock on his doorjamb stirred General Hammond from his thoughts. He looked up and granted Doctor Fraiser permission to enter. She handed him her folder and stood there while he leafed through it.

Always better to get the facts straight from the source. He closed the folder. "What is Doctor Jackson's condition today?"

"He's fine, sir," Fraiser said. "His body has adjusted to the routine I've set in place, and he's been able to return to his office and get some work done."

She paused and Hammond waited, clasping his hands over the folder on his desk. "Physically, he's as well as can be expected, under these limitations. Psychologically..." she trailed off.

"I'll send for Doctor McKenzie," Hammond told her, and saw from the look in her eyes that was not the answer she wanted. "Doctor?"

She started to say something, then stopped and nodded. "Yes, sir."

Hammond glanced down at his desk, uncomfortable with his next question. "How are the... donations coming along?"

"The response has been very positive," Fraiser said. "Most of the base wants to help. And as you can see from my report, the amount required is less now than it was. I believe that as his body adjusts to the change, he will require less blood to sustain his normal level of health."

Hammond frowned and nodded. "Yes, doctor. Dismissed."

She hesitated for a moment, then left his office. Hammond opened the folder again and stared at her report. _As his body adjusts to the change..._

It was inhuman.

\-----

They didn't understand. They couldn't. God knew, Daniel wished he didn't.

He sat in the infirmary for what he'd come to think of as "brunch." His feeding schedule didn't conform to ordinary mealtimes. On the other hand, living on SGC time had always been anything but normal.

He didn't know this one. An airman he'd never met before. He hadn't gotten used to this yet: the outpouring of support, and the quiet, determined volunteerism of people whose names he'd never heard of before. He was thankful to them, and he hated living like this. _Depending on the kindness of strangers,_ he thought ruefully.

The airman sat on the bed next to his and rolled up his sleeve. He avoided looking at Daniel. Most of them did that, he noted. Support and volunteerism only went so far. The nurse swabbed at the airman's arm and inserted the needle. Daniel's arm was already hooked up. Like a junkie, waiting for his fix.

He watched the tube linking their arms turn black-red as it filled with blood. Then felt it enter his system, felt it feed his skin and bones and muscles and tissue. Bring him air. Bring him life.

But he was still hungry.

This is what they didn't understand. He survived on this, mini-transfusions that gave him the blood he needed. But it wasn't eating. It didn't satisfy the hunger. Just like an IV drip couldn't compare with the sensation of sinking your teeth into a hamburger or drinking a chocolate milkshake.

The nurse monitored the amount, then stopped the flow, removed the tube, and swabbed the puncture mark on the airman's arm. He bent his arm and sat up. The nurse brought him some juice and a cookie.

Daniel stood up and unrolled his sleeve. He left the infirmary and headed for his office. Feeling healthy and fit, and still so, so hungry.

It didn't help to be here, but they didn't know that. The base was crawling with people. Living, breathing, bleeding human beings. The smell was too much for him sometimes. Sweet and pungent. He could almost taste the warmth on his lips.

The worst thing was the women. He knew when they were menstruating. He felt it when he walked by them, when he was near them. The sweet smell of living blood mixed with the decaying odor of it going to waste. It was sickening. It made his mouth water. It made his body yearn to feed. It made him want to retch.

In his office, he sat down at his computer and got back to his notes. The only thing he could do was work, and it helped to concentrate on something else for a while. He had a backlog of translations to work on, and new objects and reports were coming in every day. If he ever ran out, there was a warehouse of even more out there. His Goa'uld was getting better, he could read the samples they had of it fluently now. He could still be useful. For now. Until they finally let him go, let him die.

He didn't want to die, not really. But he didn't want to live like this. He thought of Sha're, and the goal of getting her back, and felt utter despair. If they found her again tomorrow, and brought her back to him, he would be this... this monster. No better than the Goa'uld who had stolen her body.

\-----

Sam found Daniel in his on-base quarters, sitting in a chair, reading a book. The door was open part way, so she knocked on it and entered.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Daniel closed the book and set it aside. "Oh. Better. I guess."

She nodded and looked questioningly at the other chair. Daniel gestured at it. "Oh, yes. Yes, sit down. Tell me how it went."

She watched him, but his face betrayed nothing but casual interest. "Oh, it went okay," she said. She paused. Why lie? He wasn't dying, not yet, and what good did lying do for him?

"Actually," she amended, "it was pretty bad."

Daniel raised his eyebrows. "Dwyer? Did he screw up?"

"No, no, he was... He was all right. He did his best. It was..."

"Jack," he said, smiling a little.

Sam smiled back. "Yeah. Colonel O'Neill wasn't exactly playing fair. And when Dwyer made a mistake -- a little mistake, something anyone could have done, something you could have done -- that only made it worse."

Daniel sat back in his chair and slowly tapped his fingers on the arm of it. "I can just imagine."

Sam glanced down. "Not that Teal'c and I were much better. I mean, I tried to be patient..." She trailed off and shrugged a little.

There was an awkward silence, then Daniel said, "I got a lot of work done. A lot of translations had been sitting around, no one to finish them. Including some that Dwyer started. He really is very good."

Sam looked at him. She wondered how long it was between feedings. He looked a bit pale, but the light in here was so gloomy, it was hard to tell. Had he lost weight? His face seemed thinner, maybe just a little. He never wore glasses anymore. She had to get used to that. With everything that had changed with him, improved eyesight was the one benefit. She knew Daniel would accept blindness to be normal again. She would, in his place.

"Daniel..." she said. "I've been thinking. I haven't mentioned this to anyone yet, and I don't know if it'll even work, but..." She stared at him and chewed on her lip. "The Tok'ra," she said. "They saved my father's life. Maybe they can save you, too. Return your body to normal."

Daniel's eyes went cold for a moment. She'd expected that. He was all right with her father, was all right around the Tok'ra, but still. They were Goa'ulds. It meant having one inside him, for the rest of his life.

Daniel rested his hands on his lap, palms upward. He stared at them for a while, so long that Sam was afraid he was drifting into sleep out of weakness. Then he said quietly, "I can feel your blood. I can sense it. You got cut on the mission? Somewhere on your leg? The blood's clotted, but the cut hasn't scabbed over yet, right?"

Sam sat very still, staring at him. "Yes," she said. "A little cut, just above the ankle."

He nodded a little, silent for a couple of minutes more. Then he looked up at her. "Let's talk to General Hammond. See if he'll agree to contact the Tok'ra."

\-----

_Here we go._ Of course. It was all so neatly hopeless, wasn't it?

Jack stared at Martouf across the briefing table, sat back, and spread his fingers over the table top. "I don't understand," he said. "If a symbiote can cure cancer, why not this?"

Martouf, who had been watching Daniel with undisguised pity, looked at Jack. "Because this is not a disease. This is an alteration of Doctor Jackson's physiology."

Jack cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "How can you be so sure without trying?"

Martouf glanced at General Hammond, then back at Jack. "It has been tried. In the past. Centuries ago, the Tok'ra first came across this vampire creature you encountered. There were many more of them then, and they used the stargate system to search for planets inhabited by humans and hunt them. There was one such planet where the creatures had attacked which was now a Goa'uld-dominated world. Tok'ra operatives were sent there to stop the building of a warship. The Goa'uld in power on this world was inside a human host. A human vampire host. She fed off her Jaffa freely. The human population had been decimated. She ate her own slaves rather than starve to death."

Jack glanced over at Daniel, who was staring straight ahead, not looking at anyone.

"But maybe the Goa'uld inside her didn't want to heal the human host," said Sam. "Or maybe the vampire creature attacked after the Goa'uld had taken its host. There are lots of variables..."

"No," said Martouf gently. "The Tok'ra are sure of this. The symbiote can't reverse what's happened."

"The sarcophagus." Teal'c's deep voice filled the silence. Everyone turned their attention to him.

"The sarcophagus restores the human host's body to its original state at the time of blending," said Teal'c. "Thus may a Goa'uld extend the life of its host for millennia."

Jack leaned forward to look down the table, to see Daniel's reaction. But Daniel was still staring ahead, unmoving, shut down.

"The Tok'ra do not have a sarcophagus," Martouf said apologetically.

Jack sat back and tapped the table. "Yeah, we know." _We know how fucking useless you're being,_ he added silently. "But give us a list of the system lords out there who might have one, and we'll get started."

"No," said General Hammond.

Jack raised his eyebrows and stared at him. "No, General?"

"I can't allow it." General Hammond faced him. "It would mean sending SG teams into the heart of system lord territories, into system lord ships. You know as well as I do we have no way to defend ourselves from a Goa'uld attack. Until we do, I cannot send SG personnel on suicide missions to retrieve a sarcophagus."

"Sir--"

Hammond cut him off. "No, Colonel. I will not allow it." He looked around the table. "Thank you, Martouf, and thank the Tok'ra council for their cooperation."

_Their useless cooperation._ He glared at Martouf, who rose from the table, and stood up with the others.

Martouf gave him a pitying look. "I am truly sorry. I will report this to the Tok'ra high council. If any Tok'ra operatives have an opportunity to procure a sarcophagus, the council may instruct them to do so."

"Thank you," General Hammond said, leading him from the briefing room.

Jack watched Daniel leave, walking slowly down the corridor. He followed him and joined him, and they walked to Daniel's quarters together in silence. Daniel seemed a little paler than usual, but otherwise healthy. At least he wasn't wasting away in a hospital bed anymore.

Daniel sat down in one of the chairs. He picked up a book from the table and stared at the spine. Jack closed the door and leaned against the table next to him, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"It's not working, is it?" he said.

Daniel set the book aside. "What isn't?"

"The way they're feeding you. It's not working. You're still hungry, aren't you?"

Daniel stared at him, eyes wide. Then he winced and looked away. "How do you know?"

Jack shrugged and kicked at floor. "I don't know. I guessed." But it hadn't been a guess. He had known. He remembered Daniel drinking on his arm, remembered the feel of Daniel's lips on his skin, and the deep sucking to draw more blood, and he had known.

Daniel ran a hand through his hair. "It keeps me alive, but I'm always hungry, anyway. It doesn't matter. Look at me." He gestured helplessly. "I'm some freak, some monster! I'm like Dracula or something."

Jack watched him. "Yeah? Can you turn yourself into a bat and fly around? 'Cause that's a pretty neat trick. I'd like to see it."

Daniel glanced up at him, and Jack smiled. Daniel half-smiled back. "Don't. It's not funny."

Jack sighed. "Yeah, I know. It's not funny. But I'll tell you what. Whenever I cut myself shaving, I'll come to you and you can have a little snack, okay?"

Daniel laughed a little. "Stop it."

Jack pulled the other chair closer and sat down. "It's only half a joke, Daniel," he said.

Daniel looked into his eyes. Jack sat still, returning his look.

"I can't," Daniel whispered after a while.

"You can," Jack said. _And you want to, I can feel it._

Daniel shook his head. "You don't understand."

"I think I do. Daniel, I'm not offering to replace your regular meals here. I know that would..." he paused, went on. "Anyway, I'm just offering something so you won't feel so hungry. Like I said. A little snack."

Daniel stared at him, and Jack felt a cold chill run up his spine. It hadn't occurred to him until then... He hadn't realized that he _wanted_ Daniel to do it. He was sitting here, convincing Daniel to drink his blood, because he wanted it. And Daniel knew he wanted it. Daniel's look told him plainly.

Why? Why did he want it? Jack stared at Daniel's face, searching for answers there. But there were none. He wanted to keep his friend alive, but Daniel could live off the transfusions. He didn't want Daniel to go hungry, but Daniel was going to be hungry anyway, because Jack couldn't feed him alone. Not without dying, and no, Jack didn't want to die. So he had no answer. Just a memory, and a vague sensation of giving life, feeding it to Daniel.

Jack said quietly, "You're hungry now."

Daniel nodded. "Always," he said.

Jack took out his little pocket knife and rolled up his sleeve. He pulled out the one blade which looked sharp enough and clean enough, then paused. He glanced at Daniel. "I guess you haven't grown fangs, huh?"

Daniel smiled. "No."

Jack slashed the blade across the tender inner skin of his forearm, below the joint. A thick trickle of blood oozed out, but before he could lift up his arm to offer it to Daniel, Daniel held his arm and bent over it. The touch of his lips and tongue, and he was drinking. Oh yes, he was drinking.

Slow and steady, drawing the blood forth, lapping it up with his tongue, letting none escape. Jack watched him swallow. Felt the pull on him fade a little, then Daniel sucked hard. More blood flowed. Living, warm blood flowing between them. From his body to Daniel's lips, into Daniel's mouth.

His head filled with buzzing, and he felt sweat trickle down his neck, into his collar. The room wavered and he closed his eyes, feeling the steady pull of Daniel's sucking. _More,_ he thought. _Take more. Drink me down..._

He opened his eyes and he was sitting in Daniel's quarters with Daniel sitting in the other chair, watching him. The room seemed very dark at first, but when he sat up straight, he could see more clearly. He looked down at his arm and saw the cut, clean and pink, no longer bleeding. He unrolled his sleeve.

"Did you, uh, get enough?" He looked at Daniel.

Daniel gave him an intense, unsettling stare. "Yes," he said quietly.

Jack stood up. Too fast. The room wavered for a second. When it stopped, he patted Daniel's shoulder. "Good. When you need... you know... just let me know, okay?"

Daniel nodded silently, looking away. He picked up his book again. Jack walked to the door, opened it, and stepped out into the corridor.

This was crazy. They had to find a way to get Daniel back to normal.

Before he let Daniel kill him.

\-----

Time was passing, Daniel wasn't sure how long. He worked. He read. He slept. He fed.

There was still a steady stream of volunteers. Blood donors. What would they do, he wondered, if there was a real emergency on the base and they needed blood donors for the normal reasons?

After much wheedling and arm-twisting, Doctor Fraiser and General Hammond allowed him off the base, to go home and gather some things. He went at night. He hadn't seen natural sunlight since the planet, but he felt an aversion to it. Even some of the rooms on base were lit a little too brightly for him now.

Outside, in the world, he almost collapsed from the overload. All those people. Living, breathing, bleeding. He drove home quickly, and ignored the ache in his body when an ambulance sped past him, lights flashing. He gathered some clothes, books, and journals, and headed back to the base. He didn't linger outside. All those people.

On the way back to the base, he passed by a bar and saw a couple leaving. The man had his arm around the woman's shoulders and was laughing. And for a moment, the space of time it took for the light to change from red to green, he thought how easy it would be to feed. He wasn't the world's most social animal, but it was easy to meet people in bars. Easy to make casual friends. And some people trusted so readily. Drank a lot and liked you and would let you do anything.

When he got back to the base, he thought he'd never go outside again.

Jack was waiting for him. Jack knew. Somehow, he knew.

He hadn't fed off Jack since that one day, the day Martouf had been here. The day Teal'c had mentioned the sarcophagus, reviving a few nightmares as well as planting an impossible hope. Daniel and Jack had been a little strained after that impromptu feeding, maybe a little embarrassed. But it went away. Daniel's hunger returned, and with it, the hint of discomfort he felt around Jack faded into oblivion.

Now, he wasn't surprised to find Jack standing next to his quarters, leaning against the wall, hands in pockets, waiting for him.

Jack eyed the small gym bag Daniel was carrying. "Is that all you brought?"

Daniel opened the door, switched on a light, winced until his eyes adjusted to the brightness, and set the bag down. "I couldn't bring everything, you know."

Jack closed the door behind him. He stood next to the dresser and looked around. Daniel sat down on the bed and unzipped his gym bag, taking stuff out and placing it on the bed. Little piles of what-goes-where.

"Another mission tomorrow," Jack said.

Daniel knew this already. Dwyer had asked for his help figuring out the probable ritualistic uses of an object the MALP had shown near the gate there.

"I thought, um..." Jack hesitated. "I thought before we left, you might need another... snack."

Daniel looked up at him. Jack gazed at him steadily. Daniel's body pounded with hunger. The ache nearly left him breathless. He could smell Jack's blood from here, across the room. He could feel its warmth. Feel its life. He could also feel Jack's desire. Like an echo of his own starvation, he could sense how much Jack wanted to feed him, wanted to give him this. He didn't understand it at all, and he was sure Jack didn't understand it, but they both knew about it. It was plain between them, naked and revealed.

Daniel licked his lips and swallowed. "Yeah. Okay."

Jack walked over to him and stood by the bed. He took out his pocket knife. Daniel reached to hold Jack's arm steady, but Jack drew it back.

"Not there."

Daniel blinked up at him. "What do you mean?"

Jack unbuttoned a few top buttons of his shirt. He wasn't wearing a t-shirt underneath. He touched the side of his neck. "I thought, here."

Daniel stared at his neck. So full of blood. So juicy. He could smell it. So sweet.

"Why?" he asked.

Jack pulled the blade out from the knife, pushed it back in, pulled it out again, toying with it. "I was thinking, it's closer to the heart. It might be... fresher... up there."

Yes. Yes, it would be. Daniel imagined the taste of it and clenched his hands into fists. He looked down at the bed and tried to joke, "It's a little cliched, isn't it? _I vant to suck your blood._"

When he looked up, Jack was watching him. Jack kept his eyes on Daniel and lifted the little knife. He made a small, careful cut just above his clavicle. Not too deep, but deep enough. Blood welled in the cut.

Daniel stood up and held Jack by his shoulders and covered the cut with his mouth. It was wonderful. Delicious. Fresh and hot and pumping with life. He sucked on the warm, quivering skin around the cut. The familiar, salty taste of Jack's flesh. Blood poured forth, onto his tongue, a strong tide of it, gushing, sweet, and unbelievably fresh. He let go of one shoulder and moved his hand to hold the back of Jack's neck as he kept drinking, sating his hunger.

It was so delicious. Jack's blood was Jack: strong, warm, generous, brimming with life. He could drink like this forever.

Forever. No. Daniel drew back. A thin trickle of blood smeared across Jack's skin. Daniel couldn't help it, couldn't let it go to waste. He leaned in and licked it up. Then he stood back, still holding Jack's right shoulder.

Jack had his eyes closed and looked calm, peaceful. He swayed a bit on his feet.

"Jack?" Daniel clutched his other shoulder and held him steady.

Jack opened his eyes slowly. He blinked a few times and squinted at Daniel.

"Are you okay?" Daniel asked, feeling him sway again.

Jack took a deep breath and opened his eyes wider. "Yeah," he said. "I just need to sit down."

Daniel helped him sit on the bed and let go of his shoulders. Jack rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, head in hands. He took deep breaths. After a few minutes, he glanced up at Daniel.

"How are you?"

"I'm good," Daniel said. "It was... You were right. It tasted fresh."

Jack sat up and smiled a little. A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He patted his sides. "There you go. I haven't hit my expiration date yet." He stood up and buttoned his shirt. He walked to the door and started to open it. He looked back at Daniel.

"Take it easy, okay?" he said.

Daniel stared at him. "You too."

Jack left the room, and Daniel sat on the bed, sorting through his clothes and books, and tasting Jack's life on his tongue.

\-----

Everyone in SGC knew about Jackson by now. Some people were curious, some were grossed out, some were scared. Most people just felt sorry for the poor bastard. He was stuck on base and he was a walking freakshow.

Colonel Makepeace wasn't the world's biggest Doctor Jackson fan (typical civilian pacifist nerd, in Makepeace's opinion), but he wouldn't have wished this fate on his worst enemy. It was inhuman. It was as bad as becoming a Goa'uld. And besides, who wanted a vampire roaming the halls of SGC?

Makepeace understood General Hammond's prohibition against going after system lords to steal a sarcophagus. Hammond liked to minimize the risks. On the other hand, Makepeace knew that if he were in Jackson's shoes, he'd either eat his own gun or go on a suicide mission to find a sarcophagus.

And on the third hand, Makepeace had knowledge Hammond didn't.

He didn't tell Maybourne. He was a little tired of Maybourne. Maybourne was more of a pencil pusher than a leader of men. Makepeace had allied with him because he agreed with Maybourne's ideology, but he didn't have to like the guy, or even respect him much. After all, it was Makepeace's butt on the line everyday.

He debated for a while over how to communicate his information to Jackson. It couldn't be traced back to him, so he borrowed O'Neill's office. He typed up the gate address on O'Neill's computer and printed it out without saving the data. If any footprints remained, they'd lead back to O'Neill. O'Neill's fault for never being in his office and leaving the door unlocked.

Delivering the print-out to Jackson was trickier. He couldn't be seen, and he couldn't entrust it to anyone else. He took his chance while breaking in the new member of his team. It wasn't his usual practice to introduce the new guy to Jackson, but it wasn't unheard of. Jackson was more or less in charge of translations and stuff, and most of the teams came in contact with him eventually. So Makepeace took Perreira on a brief sweep of various offices, including Jackson's. There he did the old bait-and-switch, while Jackson gave a wordy response to Perreira's, "What do you do?" Makepeace knocked over some papers, stooped down to pick them up, shoved the print-out inside.

Now it was up to Jackson.

\-----

All those people. It would be so easy.

Daniel lay in bed on base, awake and staring at nothing. He was hungry. Jack was away. SG-1 were still on their mission.

In a way, he wished Jack had never fed him. It only sharpened his longing for what he couldn't have. Was it worse to feed and never sate your hunger than to starve to death?

But deep down, beyond any reasoning, his body yearned for Jack, yearned to feed again. He could still taste the sweet, fresh blood, and feel its warmth coursing beneath his skin. He was certain he'd know the minute Jack came back. His body would know.

Someone walked past his quarters. He could hear their heartbeats and smell their blood. They paused for a moment and walked on. He couldn't tell who it was. Probably one of the curious: _Hey, that's where the vampire lives._

He rolled onto his side and tried to sleep. Sleep was even harder to come by now than before. He waited until he felt weak, in between feedings, and let his body run down. Then he dreamt awful, wonderful things: running across a parched landscape so fast it felt like he was flying; standing in a beautiful room, unable to move; sucking the blood from Jack's body until Jack was drained.

He wasn't going to sleep tonight. He was too restless. He sat up and lit a candle Teal'c had given him -- he preferred its soft glow to the harsh light of the lamp. He picked up his book and read a few chapters. Redundant reading given his situation, maybe, but it was interesting to bone up on vampire lore of various cultures.

Gradually, finally, he started to doze, and was drifting off, book slipping from his fingers, when he felt it. In his half-waking state, it was no more than a low, deep tidal pull inside him. Around his heart, in his veins. Then the smell -- subtle and warm. Breathing slowly, he inhaled it, and it filled him like water. Like blood.

Jack was back.

Daniel opened his eyes again. The candle was burning low. He blew it out and sat in the dark, holding his book. He waited, aware all the time of Jack's presence nearby. Jack wanted to feed him, and Daniel was so very hungry.

Jack came to his door. Daniel knew it. He could smell Jack's blood so strongly, could hear his heart beating a little faster. Daniel waited, wondering if he should turn on the light, let Jack know it was okay, he was awake.

Jack didn't come in. He stood there for a couple of minutes, then walked away. Daniel felt the pull of his presence fading slowly. Fading, fading, gone. Jack had left the base.

Daniel switched on the light and squinted while his eyes adjusted to the glare. He got dressed and wandered down to his office, bringing his book with him. He wasn't going to sleep tonight, and it was three hours until his next feeding. He could get some work done.

His desk was even more of a mess than usual. The backlog of translations hadn't gotten any smaller, despite all the progress he was making. Stacks of dictionaries, grammars, etymologies, notebooks, papers, post-it notes, encyclopedias, mythologies, and reports cluttered every available surface. Daniel sat down, switched on his computer, and while it booted up, he searched for the notes he'd been looking at a few days ago.

He found the folder under one of the smaller stacks: two dictionaries and a book on the religious symbolism of knotwork. He pulled it out and opened it, called up his files on the computer, and leafed through the pages. For some reason, they were out of order. He began to order them and found a blank sheet of paper among them. He slid it out, and, no, it wasn't blank. The only thing on it was a gate address.

It was puzzling. The address wasn't connected to the notes he was working on. He called up his mission logs. The address wasn't in them. He searched through the database and the address wasn't in _any_ mission logs. The only reference he found was its listing from the Abydos cartouche. Underneath the listing was an annotation: _Said to be Goa'uld-controlled, ref. Teal'c._

Daniel sat back and stared at the sheet of paper. There were still some pieces missing, but the puzzle made a kind of sense. A Goa'uld-controlled world no SG team had ever visited. It was a long shot, and maybe the person who'd left him this note knew that. Maybe that's why they hadn't gone to General Hammond, arranged a reconnaissance mission, found out the facts.

It was a very long shot. What did he have to lose?

\-----

_He was in a dark, dry place. Cold and silent. An endless labyrinth he walked within, no sense of direction. And he was hungry. So, so hungry._

Jack woke up slowly, tumbling from his dream back to reality. His bed, his clock, and a grey morning. He went through the motions of routine, distracted by something nameless, something formless. He couldn't remember the dream, but felt its shadow anyway.

When he arrived at the SGC, he looked for Daniel. Not in his quarters, not in his office. Jack checked the infirmary, and stopped just inside the doorway. Daniel sat on one bed, an airman Jack didn't know sat on another, reading a magazine. Linking them was the tube, red-black with blood, running from the airman's arm into Daniel's. Jack had never seen Daniel being fed before; he'd carefully avoided it. Now he watched until he felt Daniel's gaze on him. His eyes met Daniel's, and Daniel glanced away. Jack stepped back from the doorway and waited in the corridor.

Daniel came out, pulling his shirt on over his t-shirt, and said, "There's something I need to tell you."

Jack followed him down the corridor, looking around, putting on his everything-is-normal act. "Okay."

Inside Daniel's quarters, Daniel sat down at the table and pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his book. Jack hung back, leaned against the wall, and watched him. Daniel frowned and held the paper, rubbing the crease with his thumbs.

After a minute or so of uneasy silence, Jack said, "So. This thing you have to tell me. It's about--?"

Daniel licked his lips and glanced at him. "I need your help."

Jack took a steadying breath. He slipped his hand into his pocket and felt for the little pocket knife. A rush of warmth tingled inside his skin. "You, uh, need a snack?"

Daniel blinked at him, then looked down at his hands holding the paper. "This was about something else, actually." He unfolded the paper and laid it flat on the table.

The tingle of warmth faded. Jack let go of the pocket knife and walked over to the table. On the paper was a gate address, nothing more.

"Yeah?"

Daniel flattened his hands on the table, spreading his fingers. "I think there's a sarcophagus there."

Jack stared at him. Daniel stared at the paper. Jack mentally ran through a list of questions he knew better than to ask.

"It's tricky," Jack said.

"I know."

Jack pulled the other chair out and sat down. Daniel folded the paper again and slid it into his book. He kept his gaze on the table. After a while he said, "You came by last night. I felt you outside the door."

"Yeah," Jack said.

Daniel nodded to himself, as if answering some unasked question. "There's no other way," he said finally. He paused and looked at Jack. "I'm always hungry."

"I know."

Jack watched him steadily. Long moments later, he pulled out his pocket knife and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. Daniel's gaze wavered a little, straying to his neck.

_Yes, yes. What you want. What you need. It's right here for you._

The cut was deeper this time, the sting greater. He was sitting down, and Daniel couldn't reach him, so he stood up. He could feel the blood trickling down his skin, warm and thick. Watched Daniel's eyes staring at it. Felt Daniel's hunger. Like his own. Yes. Like his own.

Daniel stood up, gently placed one hand on the back of Jack's neck to tilt it, and with the other held his shoulder. Soft touch of lips, like a kiss, but more. Needier than a kiss. The hot lick of Daniel's tongue lapping up all the blood which had escaped. Then the slow, greedy, starving sucking.

He still didn't understand all of this -- didn't want to understand it -- but right now, it didn't matter.

_What you need. Take it._

\-----

They had to hurry. Hours of nothing had passed -- waiting for Jack to recover, waiting for the right moment, waiting. Now this.

The control room staff were caught off-guard. Daniel fought with the last one, finally hurtling him to the floor, while Jack sealed off the area with his security code. Daniel took out the paper with the gate address, even though he had those symbols burned in his brain by now, and dialled. The alarms were going off, the lights flashing, the gate spun to life. It seemed to take forever, then it was set. The address was locked. They ran to the gateroom while the wormhole wooshed out.

No hesitations. They ran up the ramp, into the wormhole, and tumbled out the other side.

It was a tomb, and Daniel's first thought was that this was a lucky break. The sarcophagus couldn't be far away. Then he stood up and broke into a cold sweat. The sarcophagus.

Jack got to his feet and went over to check the DHD. He looked around while Daniel took a deep breath and processed what his senses told him.

"Humans here," he whispered. "Maybe Jaffa."

"Lots?" Jack whispered back, pulling out the zat he'd smuggled from the armory.

Daniel got his zat out, too. "Can't tell. I don't think so, though." Jack glanced at him. "It's not an exact science," Daniel whispered defensively. "I sense human blood, less than at SGC, but more than just one person."

Jack crept up to the plain doorway leading deeper into the tomb and peered around the corner. He glanced back and nodded, and Daniel went through, into a golden corridor lit with burning oil lamps. Daniel glanced around as he followed it, trying to read enough of the hieroglyphics to find out whose tomb they were in, but Jack was behind him, hurrying him along.

The next chamber was gold and stone, filled with vivid wall paintings and decorated with gold columns and a gold altar. Daniel crossed the space to get a closer look at the altar, and noticed the circular design set into the floor. Transport rings. Just as he slowed his steps on the edge of the circle, he smelled blood. He turned and rushed to duck behind a column. He glanced around for Jack, and spotted him crouching behind a column on the other side of the chamber.

Two Jaffa marched in, carrying staff weapons and wearing hawk helmets. Well, that answered that question. Heru-Ur followed the Jaffa, and behind him were four more guards. In the center of the chamber, they stopped. Four Jaffa and Heru-Ur stood inside the circle. A blindingly bright light flashed and the rings descended, surrounded them, and rose up, taking them away. The two remaining Jaffa stood by the gold altar, guarding it.

Jack caught Daniel's attention, nodded at the guards, and lifted his zat. Daniel aimed his, counted to three, and they fired together. The guards shook from the blasts and collapsed.

Meeting Daniel in the middle of the floor, Jack asked, "Any more coming?"

Daniel stared down at the guards. "Not that I can tell."

They went through the doorway Heru-Ur had come from. Another long, golden corridor that eventually opened out into a large chamber decorated with wall paintings, carvings, and more gold columns. And a sarcophagus.

Jack made a thorough sweep of the chamber, zat held ready. Daniel stood at the foot of the sarcophagus and stared at it.

There was nothing to remember. Once inside, you belonged to it, and you had no conscience, no awareness. When it released you, you were reborn. Rising up from its welcoming grasp, you viewed the world anew. Restored, renewed, reborn.

So why was he so scared?

"Daniel?" Jack's whisper was close. He felt Jack's hand on his shoulder. He couldn't look away from the sarcophagus. "Daniel, are you okay?"

There was nothing to remember. Except the thrill of perfection, of being absolutely right, of seeing what no one else could see. Of knowing all the answers. But that was just an illusion, wasn't it?

"Daniel," Jack said quietly, at his shoulder, "you can do this. I'm right here. You'll be all right."

Daniel half-smiled to himself. "I know," he said.

He handed his zat to Jack and walked along the sarcophagus. He touched the gemstone disc and it opened. There, below him, was the welcoming chamber. The invitation to begin again. The invitation to return, again and again. Always there. He'd tasted the thrill, the knowledge. It wasn't just an illusion. That was why he was scared. He knew it was real.

Daniel climbed inside the sarcophagus and lay down. The cover closed over him. The silence of the chamber became oppressive and heavy.

Jack stood by the sarcophagus, holding both zats ready. Keeping watch. Silently sending Daniel a little pep talk: _Just get through it, just this once, and I'll get you home, and everything will be all right._ And it was probably silly to send Daniel a silent pep talk, but on the other hand, he knew how hard it had been for Daniel to climb in there, and God only knew what Daniel was going through now.

Jack never remembered his own sarcophagus experience, other than sitting up and being inside one. The stuff before had come back to him, but not actually being inside it. But he'd been wounded badly, and in shock. Who knew what went on in there when you were fully awake?

Whatever it was, Daniel wasn't going to go through it again after this. No. Grab Daniel and get the hell out of here. Get him away from here. Take him home.

Find out if it worked.

Taking a long time, wasn't it? Some technology. Work faster. Those Jaffa might be waking up by now. Heru-Ur might come back. What good was a sarcophagus if it didn't work any faster than this?

_And it had better work. Make Daniel normal again. Give Daniel back, and take away his hunger. _

_ And that will take away mine. Won't it?_

\-----

General Hammond glared at the gate as it swirled and stopped at another symbol. Sergeant Davis glanced up from his computer screen. "It's SG-1's code, sir."

_Yes, it had better be,_ Hammond thought grimly. "Open the iris."

The iris opened and the wormhole engaged. Hammond strode down to the gateroom and waited. The unhappy reception he'd had in mind for them faded when he saw the two men emerge from the gate: Jackson was holding a limping O'Neill up and supporting him. As they slowly trudged down the ramp, Hammond called for a medical team. Jackson helped O'Neill sit down on the ramp.

"General," Colonel O'Neill said, "I know what you're going to say, and I deserve every word of it, but can the court-martial wait until after I pass out?" He held his right leg -- looked like a grazing glance from a staff weapon -- and winced.

Two medics came jogging in and bent over O'Neill. Hammond looked at Jackson. "Doctor Jackson?"

Jackson gave him a weary, quiet look. "We found a sarcophagus. It was successful." He spoke slowly, and the look in his eyes seemed a little unfocused, as if he were not quite there.

Hammond glanced at O'Neill. "Successful?"

"Little run-in with some Jaffa as we were dialling out, sir," said O'Neill.

"I can see that," Hammond said drily.

Hammond tabled the chewing-out he had planned. It could wait until later. He ordered them both to the infirmary. They had to confirm that Doctor Jackson was back to normal. Give them both time to recuperate. Then call them on the carpet. As if it would ever do any good.

\-----

"Well?" Jack had asked as Daniel had sat up from the sarcophagus, and Daniel had said, "I think so." And that had been it.

Nothing to remember. Except the sweetness of Jack's blood, the taste of his skin. The power of life rushing through his veins.

_We take it all for granted, even when we don't think we do,_ Daniel had thought, stepping out of the sarcophagus. Our hearts beating, pumping blood through this incredible network to feed our bodies. This everyday-but-exotic liquid that nourishes us, that escapes so easily but is so precious.

He felt a loss, and he hadn't expected to. He was back to normal. No super-sense to tell him when humans were near. No perfect eyesight better adapted to darkness than light. And no smell of Jack's blood.

He couldn't smell it anymore. He couldn't really taste it anymore. He remembered sweetness, and warmth, but as vague concepts, not the actuality of it. With embarrassing clarity, he remembered sucking it from Jack's body, greedily sucking it, but he couldn't remember the feel of it on his tongue or sliding down his throat.

And he should be grateful for that, he told himself. He was no longer an inhuman monster. He was just... himself now.

He was grateful, really. This was better. He could walk around SGC and not feel like a ghoul. He could pass the infirmary and not be able to tell how many patients had bleeding wounds. He could eat real food again. He wasn't hungry all the time. He could drink coffee. Ahh, coffee tasted good again.

And he and Jack were back to normal. No odd little feeding ritual to make them uncomfortable anymore. No sixth-sense awareness of where Jack was, and how close, and how his heart was beating. They were separate human beings again.

It was better this way.

\-----

_ He was in a dark, dry place. Cold and silent. An endless labyrinth he walked within, no sense of direction. And he was hungry. So, so hungry. _

_ He was alone. The labyrinth twisted and curled, and he walked on, but he knew it was pointless. At its heart was nothing. No one there. He was utterly alone now._

Jack blinked at the darkness, awake as if he'd never slept. The dream right there, right under his skin, too close to his consciousness.

"Well?" Jack had asked as Daniel had sat up from the sarcophagus, and Daniel had said, "I think so." And that had been it.

Jack had expected a sense of loss, and hadn't gotten one. He felt the same. There was Daniel, blinking and frowning and wishing they'd thought to bring his glasses along. Not wanting any blood, any snacks. Not hungry anymore.

Jack had thought he wouldn't feel hungry, either. He'd thought he would finally shake off this feeling that he had to keep Daniel going, that he had to keep Daniel strong, that he and Daniel were linked irrevocably. But the feeling was still there, like a lump. Now intrusive and inappropriate, and how in the hell would he get rid of it? If getting Daniel back to normal didn't do the trick, what would?

Maybe he should have crawled into that sarcophagus himself while they were there. Except this wasn't a physical wound, it was something else. He didn't think the sarcophagus could cure this.

It wasn't important, he told himself. The important thing was that they had Daniel back. Life could go back to normal now. They were separate people again. It was better this way.

It made him relax to think of how things were better now. He closed his eyes, felt the darkness around him, and went back to sleep.

_ He was alone. The endless labyrinth twisted and curled, and he walked on, but he knew it was pointless. At its heart was nothing. _

_ No hunger called to him, yearned for him to answer. No one was waiting for him. No one needed what he had to give. No one needed his hunger. _

(the end)


End file.
